


Someone Says There's Something More to Pay for Sins that You Committed Yesterday

by indevan



Series: A Matter of Trust [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3134543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which it is revealed that the Wardens have deeper connections other than "all being elves."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone Says There's Something More to Pay for Sins that You Committed Yesterday

It was not a merry group that made their way through the forest.  A few of the humans joked around, talking about what they would do with the money.  The elves were quieter.  They knew what they were doing.  Adaia gripped the handle of her knife and sighed.  Doing this was wrong.  She knew it was.  Knew going after a Dalish Clan to rob them was wrong and cruel.  This Clan had done nothing but settle in the woods surrounding the city.  But she needed money.  She couldn’t keep a job as a servant.  Her mouth and temper got in the way and no Lord or Lady would keep her.  Cyrion’s job in the kitchens could only do so much.  Unlike the others in their family, she had no skills other than fighting.

On top of survival her niece was turning six soon.  She wished to have some spare coin to buy her a present.  Maeve was a darling girl.  She looked like her mother and skipped out on the strange colored eyes that ran in Adaia’s family.  She was sweet and calm and already taking to the training she had been giving her on the side.  She hoped Maeve never found out about this.

“You nervous too?”

Adaia looked over to see that she was being spoken to by one of the other elves.  He was tall for an elf and broad through the shoulders.  She didn’t know him from the Alienage and wondered where he had been brought in from.

“Yeah...it doesn’t...seem right.”

He nodded. “I know.  But my boss pays me just enough for the cabin me and my wife are in and we just had a baby…”

“Desperation,” she said with a nod of her own. “I understand that.”

“My name’s Saul.”

“Adaia.”

He smiled and said, “Nice to meet you--just wish it were under better circumstances, huh?”

Saul spoke with the same accent she did so she assumed that he lived nearby, just not in the Alienage.  He had said “cabin” so he probably lived out in the outer fringes, near the woods.  And a baby.  Adaia wanted a child more than anything but Cyrion wanted to wait.  “You’re still babies!” his older sister Chelis would often say and he agreed.  Cyrion, her sweet Cyrion.  He was the calm to her storm, really.  When she said this to Chelis, she would laugh and say that he was the most mischievous, loud, ill-tempered brat in all the Alienage until she came to town.  “Why do you think we got him cooking?” she’d say, “It was to keep him from starting fights.”  Maybe it was her own bluster that tempered his, Adaia sometimes thought.  He knew about what she was doing as there were no secrets between them.  He wasn’t happy, though.  He got that crease in the middle of his forehead and he frowned and fretted and would probably be up until she got back, waiting anxiously.

“The humans are too excited,” Saul said, quieter this time. “It kind of makes me sick.”

She nodded.  In a way, they were no better than they were, as they had a part in this.  But she felt sick to her stomach at the thought.  Though she knew better, she hoped that they could conclude this jaunt without any casualties.

“Not much further!” this from the head of this expedition of sorts.  He sounded overjoyed.

Adaia gripped the handle of her knife again and swallowed thickly.  She actually had no idea if she could go through with this.

“Dalish!” another human in the group shouted.  She didn’t know why.  They were a small group and everyone could see the pair of elves standing in front of them.

She didn’t draw her knives just yet.  These were only two elves, after all, and she didn’t want any of them dead.  They looked surprised to see the group and Adaia felt bad.  They were a man and a woman.  The man had his glossy black hair pulled up into a horsetail that hung down his back.  A staff was slung over his back and she straightened a little where she stood.  He was a mage.  The woman was heavily pregnant and had one of the most breathtaking faces she had ever seen.  Adaia felt as though she couldn’t look directly at her, she was so beautiful.  Or maybe she was just too ashamed to make eye contact.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Where’s your Clan, knife-ear?” the leader asked.  Adaia never got his name.

“Like we’d tell you,” the woman said with a derisive snort.

He drew his sword and took a step forward.

“I’m not going to ask you again, knife-ears.” He pointed the blade towards her stomach. “How would you like it if I cut that pointy-eared baby right out of you?”

The woman glared at him and reached for her bow.  The man reacted faster.  He drew his staff and fired a bolt of lightning at the leader.  Adaia closed her eyes, not wanting to see what happened.  Light burst in front of her shut lids and when she opened them there was a charred spot on the ground where the leader had been.  The others moved fast, grabbing bows and firing at the pair of elves.  Even so, he was able to fire more spells and incinerate several of those in their group.  The volley of arrows came from their side, from those left.  The man stood in front of her, shielding her.  He took the majority of them.  Blood bloomed on his chest and stomach but it was the one through his throat that made him fall.  The woman got off easily with an arrow to the arm but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Theron!” she screamed.  Another arrow pierced her thigh and she fell to her knees on the ground.  Despite the blood spilling from her wounds, she didn’t take her eyes off of the fallen mage.

“Theron!” she cried again.  Tears flowed down her cheeks. “Th--aah!”

She grabbed her midsection and the color drained from her face.

“Not here,” she whispered. “Wait, da’len, please.”

Adaia didn’t know what “da’len” meant but she knew labor when she saw it.

“Retreat,” one of the elves said, his eyes wide and frantic. “They could have more mages.”

She stared at the injured woman who was breathing heavily now.

“What about her?” she asked.

“Forget her,” another elf said. “No coin is worth getting burned alive by a savage Dalish mage pissed we killed one of theirs.  Come on.”

The others left, abandoning the charred bodies of their compatriots.  Adaia looked at the woman and took a step forward.

“I can help get you to safety,” she said.

She whipped her head up and gave her a hateful stare.

“Step back, flat-ear!” she growled out. “You killed my Theron!  You--aaaugh!”

Saul came around her and held his hand out to her.

“We cannot make up for what they did but we can make sure you and your child are alright.”

She hesitated, looking between them both.  Finally, she took Saul’s hand.

“I don’t want to be without him,” she whispered, looking at the mage’s body.  Her own body shuddered as another pain of labor went through her.

Adaia came to her other side to support her and said, “Think of the baby.”

The woman didn’t appear to be listening.  As they walked through the forest, when she wasn’t crying out in pain, she would give them directions towards where her Clan was staying.  Adaia didn’t know if they were going to shoot her and Saul on sight but she was willing to take that risk.  It was her fault she was in this situation, after all.

They broke through the trees to see a bunch of those Dalish land ships and their white deer creature-things.  A young woman spotted them and rushed over.

“Lyna!”

She stopped at the woman and took her into her arms.  She stared over the woman’s--Lyna, apparently--shoulder and eyed them warily.

“Who are you?”

Adaia took a breath and said, “Two people who made a mistake.”

Lyna shuddered in the woman’s arms and gripped her shoulder tightly.

“The baby,” she whispered hoarsely.

“I’m more concerned with the arrows sticking out of you,” she said. “Where’s Theron?”

Lyna began crying again and realization came upon her face.

“I see.”

“There were others,” Saul said. “Humans and other elves.  They...killed him.”

“They?” she arched her brows.

“We were a part of their plan to rob you,” Adaia said.  She figured honesty would be the best here even if it got her stuck full of arrows. “But not murder.”

Lyna moved from her arms.

“I need to be with him.”

“You need to be here.  Being healed.  Having your baby safely.”

“Ashalle…”

“Don’t ‘Ashalle’ me.  You are staying here.”  To Adaia and Saul she said, “Ma serannas.  For your honesty, at least.  And for helping Lyna.  You should go before the others are alerted to your presence.  They will not be as understanding as I am.”

Adaia nodded and turned to Saul who nodded himself.  They walked back into the forest and said not another word to one another until they went their separate ways.

\--

Lyna gave birth to the baby near dawn.  It was a short birth, which surprised Ashalle.  She had seen some labors go on for almost a full day.  The baby was small, premature.  He cried with all of his might the moment he was brought out from her womb.  Lyna’s wounds were treated by Marethari who would no longer be their First, it seemed.  It always struck Ashalle as odd that their First was older than their Keeper.  Theron had been her friend.  When he came to the Clan as a Fledgling, they had gotten on straight away.  When his meetings with Lyna had still been clandestine, Ashalle had covered for him.  Now he was dead somewhere in the forest.  The hunters would retrieve his body so that it could be returned to the soil.  She would have joined them normally but she had to tend to Lyna.

She swaddled him in a blanket.  The poor thing born on a winter’s night as well.  He had to be freezing.  Ashalle cradled him in her arms.  He was a precious thing and he already had Theron’s dark hair.  It was too soon to tell who he would take after in looks, though.  Right now his face was screwed up as he wailed into the still, cold air that managed to slip through the wooden walls of the aravel.

“Take care of him, lethallan,” Lyna whispered.

She sat propped up on pillows in the bed that had once been hers and Theron’s.  Ashalle looked at her, unsure of what she was saying.  Lyna got herself to her feet and Ashalle handed her the wrapped newborn.  She shook her head and stepped out of the aravel.

“Lyna?” She followed her out, tucking the baby as close to her breast as she could in an attempt to shield him from the cold.

“I need to be with him,” she said.  She turned to Ashalle and smiled in a slow, faraway manner. “You’ll care for him, won’t you?”

“I…” she didn’t know what to say.  Lyna was planning to go out to where Theron was and kill herself. “But the baby--”

“Name him for his father.”

“Lyna!”

She wasn’t listening.  On slow, unsteady legs, she walked past the treeline and disappeared into the dark forest.  Ashalle stared after her, unsure if she was should run after her or not.  A cry from the baby directed her attention downwards.  Right.  She was to take care of him now, it seemed.

“Name him for his father,” she whispered Lyna’s last words to herself.  Gently, she rocked him in her arms until he settled.

She caressed his cheek with a bent finger and he turned, rooting immediately.  They would have to find someone to nurse him.

“Is that Lyna’s child?” Marethari came over, her face creased in worry. “Where is she?”

Ashalle looked towards the trees and said, “She’s gone to be with him.  That’s what she said.  She told me to take care of the baby.”

“I see.  Has he a name?”

Again, she remembered Lyna’s last words.  She nodded.

“Yes.  Theron--like his father.”

\--

Adaia returned to the Alienage on heavy legs.  She felt awful.  A more selfish part of her was upset that there was no payoff but that was a minor concern.  She arrived to the house and saw Cyrion sitting at the table.  Two loaves of bread sat with him and she knew he had been worried.  He always baked when he was worried.

“How was it?” he asked in a small voice.

Adaia just shook her head.  He held his arms out and she went into them readily.  Cyrion was thinner and shorter than her but he held her tightly and firmly in his arms.

They got into bed and laid together.  Afterwards, she thought of the child she wanted so badly and the Dalish woman Lyna.  She hoped the baby was alright.  She hoped she was as well.  She turned in towards Cyrion who responded by wrapping her in his arms.

“Never again,” she said. “No matter how much coin.”

She heard him sigh in relief and nuzzled his shoulder.  She couldn’t help but think what would happen if that were them in the woods but she tried not to dwell on it long.  She had never thought that she would fall in love with the match made for her but there they were.  They were alive, for now.  If the guard found out about her abilities, about her training Maeve, she would have to face more than a small band of elves and humans.  She knew that day would come eventually so she could only hope that it did not come soon.

\--

Saul shuffled into the cabin and closed the door.  As usual, it didn’t set right and the wind came in from the top and side.  He turned and hefted his shoulder against the wood to get it shut.

“Didn’t go well?” Gwen asked.

Their cabin had one room and she sat on the bed.  The shift she slept in was too large and hung off one shoulder.  Her blond hair was a mess.  He wasn’t troubled by either of those things.  What troubled him was the worried look on her face.

“Awful,” he said.  He looked at the cradle that sat at the foot of their bed. “Is he sleeping?”

Gwen nodded. “And I would be, too, if my husband wasn’t out robbing Dalish to keep us fed.”

Her tone was teasing but her expression was not.

“I didn’t get anything,” he said. “We--I couldn’t go through with it.”

That woman and her baby.  He thought of his own son sleeping peacefully in his cradle.  Saul closed his eyes and rubbed the spot between them.

“Come to bed, darling,” Gwen said quietly.

He opened his eyes and put a smile on.

“In a moment.  I want to hold him.”

She pretended to look mad. “If you wake him, you’re staying up with him.”

He opened his hand in understanding and went to the cradle.  His son slept in there peacefully, dreaming whatever babies dreamed of.  Gingerly, he lifted him up into his arms and held him.  He stirred but thankfully didn’t awaken.

“Hi, Kierin,” he whispered to him. “Papa’s back.  I know you can’t hear me but...I just want to hope that you never have to do what I did.  I will make sure you don’t.”

Gwen came behind him and rubbed his shoulders.

“Don’t get so dark,” she said teasingly.  Saul knew she was still tense, though.  Worried.  He would talk to her about it later, when he processed it himself.

He kissed Kierin on his forehead and laid him back in the cradle.  Then he let Gwen lead him to bed.  She gently sat him down and took his boots off.  Cajoled him out of his trousers and into a night shirt.

“Get some sleep,” she said and kissed him gently.

He closed his eyes and as he did, he thought of his son and the baby in the Dalish Clan.  He hoped Kierin never had to experience violence like that.  It was a pipe dream but a nice one at least.

 


End file.
